


Into the Light of the Dark Black Night

by JekkieFan



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Aziraphale Takes Care of Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley's Fall (Good Omens), Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, No beta we fall like Crowley, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-01
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 12:08:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22969762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JekkieFan/pseuds/JekkieFan
Summary: The light was gone. The freshly fallen angel’s eyes burned as hot tar pulled at his skin. Golden tears cascaded down his upturned face as the last hints of Grace left him.In which Crowley has a dream about falling.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 69





	Into the Light of the Dark Black Night

The light was gone.

The freshly fallen angel’s eyes burned as hot tar pulled at his skin. Golden tears cascaded down his upturned face as the last hints of Grace left him. He had to get back. There had to be a mistake! All he did was ask. _What did I ask?_ His brain thought, but his body was already moving. In a rush the angel tried flying back. A flash of feathers then a _crack!_ Gravity smacked him to the boiling ground. He cried out in agony with a throat scratched dry like he downed a vial of toxic acid. The angel crawled back onto his hands and knees as his broken wings trembled from the pain. With ragged breath the fallen angel experience physical pain for the first time, and could only wait as it ebbed away. He would give anything for a single drop of water.

When he opened his eyes again he saw his arms, bruised and bloody from the fall. But there was something that hurt even more somehow. The once angelic, golden scales had been scorched black from the flames. He touched them, hoping they’d be as smooth as before, but they stung. The fallen angel winced, then felt lonely.

He felt hollow. Or that he’d been hollowed out against his will. He had once felt warmth and Love that filled his whole being. But this was empty. This was hot and burned like ice. This was an emptiness that ate at him, demanding his heart turn into a dark void. Like a black hole, but worse. Colder. Emptier. Lonelier.

Limbs heavy with sorrow, the demon rose from the putrid ground, and began walking. Where to? Unknown. For how long? Also unknown. All that he knew was that he felt the air shift from cool to freezing. That the rain and rising water turned to snow and ice. That the expected relief from his burns was denied. The ice burned too. He only felt tired.

In the distance he saw a forest, frozen and barren. He trudged through the snow and collapsed at the foot of the first tree. Crimson locks covered his face. They had been in neat curls before he fell, he thinks. He tried to think of Heaven, but things began to feel fuzzy around the edges. So he laid there in the aching cold, holding his legs, trying not to think. But through his messy locks he saw something. A glow. A light! There was a spark of hope that ignited his spirits in that frozen wasteland. He sat up.

The moon was bright.

Bright enough to be mistaken for forgiveness. It cast its silver light over the untouched forest around him. The snow sparkled and shined. It was almost heavenly. But not really. He leaned back, and tried to cast out all hope.

Then he heard a small sound. A chirp. One of distress and fear. Slowly, with labored movement, the demon turned to the source of the call. At the trunk of the tree next to him, among its snowy roots, lay a bird. Just a fledgling with feathers as dark as his own. Carefully, and with much pain, he crawled to the bird, and scooped it up to his chest. It was small, scared, and pathetic. The bird looked like it could barely lift its head. It must of fallen out of its nest. His heart filled with a new ache.

“Poor thing,” he managed to say through hurt and tears. “Didn’t mean to fall, did you?”

The bird only snuggled to his chest.

“You should fly with the rest of them.”

There was a peep from the bird. Its meaning was unknown.

The demon looked up to the bright and full moon. Dazzling next to it were the stars. His stars. He rubbed his arm and felt the sting of his scales as he thought of their previous celestial likeness. The demon watched as his stars vanished. A dark cloud passed over, casting he and the bird into darkness.

Crowley opened his eyes.

His vision was blurred by tears, but he was certain that he was looking at the stars. And he was warm, not freezing nor burning. He wasn’t in the snow, but surrounded by softness. It took a moment for him to realize that what had passed. It had been something between a bad dream and a painful memory. A bird chirped just outside the starry window.

“It’s alright, my dear,” said a softer voice behind him.

Crowley didn’t see so much as sense white wings wrap around him in protection. He spoke before he knew what he was doing. “Aziraphale,” came the shaky, drawn-out call.

Aziraphale didn’t shush him with words, but simply held him closer. “You were crying in your sleep,” his angel explained. “I tried to wake you sooner, dear, I really did.” He sounded worried. Crowley didn’t like that.

The demon shifted towards Aziraphale only to have his suspicions proven. He wrapped his arms around his angels middle before burying his face into his other’s shirt. It smelled of lilac, vanilla, and book dust. Something else too. Something purely Aziraphale. Crowley began to relax a bit.

Aziraphale caressed his love’s loose curls. “Would you like to talk about it?”

Crowley shook his head, snuggling closer to his angel. “Not yet. You can go back to reading your book, angel. Just give me a minute.”

It was true. Aziraphale had been reading when he heard Crowley quietly sniff and whine next to him. It was also true that he tried to wake Crowley, but to no avail. So he settled for a snuggle, in hopes that Crowley would find it a comfort upon waking.

“I think I’ll stay here,” Aziraphale replied. “Are you feeling any better?”

“Now that you’re here.” He sighed, feeling more than better.

Aziraphale smiled. “I’ll always be here for you.” He rubbed Crowley’s back to support his words.

Crowley’s heart was near bursting with love. And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, the sad part turn out sadder than I expected...  
> Anyway, this was kinda based on and idea a friend and I had after listening to [a minor key version of Blackbird](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZuvPeSICYwk) a couple years ago. The original idea was really just "fallen angel projects onto a baby blackbird, and doesn't know what the moon is yet." But I made some changes for this fic.  
> The part where Crowley wakes up was inspired by [this fanart by pinkpiggy93](https://pinkpiggy93.tumblr.com/post/611119680457932800/something-soft-for-my-soul)  
> I kinda wrote this instead of sleeping, and also to get back into writing after taking a break from writing my webcomic.* Last week was kinda rough, so I felt it best to write this idea that's been stuck in my head for a while. And I feel a lot better after writing this. So I guess it sorta worked.  
> So if you're up to it, please leave a comment or a kudos!
> 
> *(psst! It's a Celtic Medieval comic about a kiddo with cryptid adopted parents trying to make friends. If that's your jam, it's called The Tale of Corsinby and it's on Tapastic)


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